


More Than Enough

by SpicedGold



Series: Little Things [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Not shipping unless you really want it to be, Rated T for language, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 12:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11208429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: It’s October 19th. Kisame doesn’t know what that means to Itachi, but it clearly means something.Kisame takes it upon himself to 'help' Itachi through his small emotional crisis, despite the fact that he knows absolutely nothing about helping people, and is sure to get something completely wrong. With any luck, his mistakes won't cost him his life.





	More Than Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Not necessarily shipping, unless you want it to be. This may become the first of a series of one shots about Kisame and Itachi as they work together. I've always viewed their relationship as close friends - although that might just be because Itachi and Shisui are probably my OTP and that therefore negates any other paring.
> 
> Please enjoy  
> SpicedGold

Kisame isn’t a therapist, by anyone’s standards.

So he never has the right reaction around Itachi, which is a pity, because he thinks the right reaction would probably keep him alive for longer, and the wrong reaction is liable to be instantly punished by the teen who walks sullenly by his side and can kill people with a raised eyebrow.

But they’ve been partners for two years now, the kid’s, what, fifteen, sixteen? Kisame doesn’t even know, he just knows Itachi is young, too young for what he’s doing, and so quiet that Kisame can’t help but feel slightly protective over him.

Not that Itachi needs protecting; he’s proven that more than necessary, but still. He’s a kid, one that Kisame suspects is not as mentally sound as he assures everyone he is.

So, two years. Two years, and this is the fourth time he’s seen Itachi like this. He had been keeping note, though. Noted the days when Itachi seemed even more off than usual. And Kisame had found that there were two dates on the calendar that sent his partner into a quiet, seething, miserable depressive mess.

It’s October 19th. Kisame doesn’t know what that means to Itachi, but it clearly means something.

Because the young prodigy is sitting so still; hasn’t moved in ages, staring at the waterfall they had stopped next to earlier that morning. As if the tumbling water held answers. As if the water gushing down, powerful and unrestrained, meant something, something important. And he just glared at the water, and anyone looking closely would realise that there were dozens and dozens of emotions flashing through his eyes, over and over again. He’s spiralling out of control, feeling too much all at once, and even Itachi has a breaking point, one Kisame hopes to never discover.

Kisame pursed his lips, wondering if he should say something. He should, because they are supposed to be moving, not sitting around while Itachi’s for once dark eyes stare in horrifying blankness at the water cascading nearby. Like everything is hopeless and wrought with tragedy.

“Itachi-san?” He doesn’t expect an answer; he’s used to the silence. What he didn’t expect was Itachi to turn his face to him, with an expression so raw and vulnerable that Kisame thought for a brief moment that someone had replaced his partner with a very sad clone, because Itachi did _not_ look that upset, ever.

There was something wrong, and it was so glaringly obvious Kisame couldn’t really deny it anymore.

The sun would set soon. Kisame realised they hadn’t eaten all day. While it might not affect the young Uchiha, it certainly affected the ex-Kiri nin. “Let’s get something to eat,” he said gruffly, because really, what was he supposed to say when faced with an unapproachable genius who was clearly stuck in some emotional turmoil?

Itachi shook his head.

“We have to eat something,” Kisame insisted.

The only reply he got was another, more forceful, shaking of the head, Itachi’s black hair flying wildly around his face.

Kisame sighed. “Come on, Itachi-san. There’s a village close by. You need a drink.” This was why he wasn’t a therapist. His solution to life’s bitter, emotional, unsolvable problems was alcohol. Hey, it worked for him. Why wouldn’t it work for the kid?

“I don’t drink,” Itachi said, and they were the first words he had spoken all day.

“It’ll take your mind off it.” Kisame didn’t know what ‘it’ was, but he felt the slightly protective need to make Itachi feel better. And clearly, the way to do this was to get the kid blind drunk. In his defence, he was not known for his ability to make good decisions in emotional situations that he didn’t even understand.

He walked off in the direction of the village, and after several metres he heard Itachi’s languid footsteps behind him, and mentally cheered because the young Uchiha was actually listening to him. It was probably one of the dumber decisions he had made that day, to lead an unhappy Itachi to ‘water’ like a wayward, dejected horse, but he was counting it as a win because he never got to be in charge.

It was always Itachi making the right decisions, Itachi deciding where to go and what to do. Well, today was Kisame’s day. It was his turn to make decisions.

He discovered very quickly that there was a reason why he wasn’t in charge most of the time.

 

Kisame is not always the brightest when it comes to personal decisions. Like forgetting that Itachi is underage, and tiny, and there’s no way he isn’t going to be affected by this amount of sake. But Kisame had been babbling nonsensically, trying to drown out Itachi’s broody cloud of misery, and losing track of drinks. Until he realised he had poured just as much into the young ex-Konoha nin as he had into himself, which reminded him that Itachi hadn’t eaten all day – and did he mention the Uchiha was tiny?

Then he wanted to slap himself in the face, because Itachi was sitting blankly opposite him, looking rather dazed, and wouldn’t it just serve Kisame right if the young boy was an expert in drunken fist or something.

But Itachi did not look hostile. He looked rather calm, actually, and Kisame found that a bit more unsettling.

“That’s probably enough,” Kisame took the last cup of sake from in front of the teen before he could reach towards it, and ignored the flash of irritation from those dark, deadly eyes. “We should find somewhere to sleep. And something to eat.”

Itachi shook his head again – clearly this was one of those non-speaking days.

Kisame figured it would be safe to ignore Itachi’s articulate declaration against food, but he did realise the stupidly vulnerable position he had put them in. They were wanted S-Class nin, being pursued at all times by the highest ranking and most well-trained shinobi in all the five countries.

And Kisame had filled his trump card full of alcohol.

Itachi would not stand up to any attack right now.

This was why Kisame was not considered a genius.

With a sigh, Kisame noted that as approximately the 88th stupid decision he had made today, and stood up, hoping Itachi would follow like he usually did. Like a dazed puppy recovering from anaesthesia, Itachi stood up, a little wobbly, and trailed after Kisame without a murmur. He still walked straight, to Kisame’s surprise.

But he looked like a zombie, blank, endless eyes cast down and steps slightly laboured.

Kisame led him back out into the forest, slightly concerned. He placed Itachi securely back in front of the waterfall, a bit worried that the boy would wander off in a daze and be difficult to recover. But, the cascading water caught Itachi’s attention, and he stared at it with dull, emotionless eyes. This didn’t _seem_ like an improvement from the morning, but Kisame figured even if he hadn’t solved Itachi’s problem, he had definitely sent the kid’s mind in another direction. Even if that direction was towards being drunk as a skunk.

Kisame wanted to pat himself on the back for his brilliant plan to keep Itachi in one place (That was some damn good sake) while he set up camp, and then hurried off to find food, (which he should have done while they were still in the village, but he didn’t want to risk stopping, taking his attention off Itachi, and then finding the somewhat woozy nin had meandered off somewhere) but when he returned Itachi was not sitting where he had been left, and Kisame panicked slightly.

His panic abated when he spotted the young ninja sitting next to the fire Kisame had lit before going to fetch something to eat.

“Itachi-san,” Kisame called his name out before approaching, worried in case being rather drunk made Itachi a bit more hair-trigger and liable to murder him for ‘sneaking up’ on the kid. Itachi didn’t acknowledge his presence though.

Kisame sat opposite him, the fire between them, feeling nervous. Itachi was quiet a lot, but today, an important day – he still didn’t know why it was important – he seemed downright, silently psychotic. Kisame had not bothered to get supper for Itachi. He knew the teen wouldn’t eat. But he had bought dango, a peace offering to help himself feel better about the absolutely numbskull decision to get Itachi drunk – if that was even the word to use. ‘Comatose’ seemed more appropriate. He held the stick towards Itachi as though tentatively offering his arm to a crocodile, his arm growing slightly tired as Itachi took ages to register the movement and look up from the flames.

He considered the outstretched dango, eyes still black and dull, and _Christ_ , Kisame thought, that was the last time he ever, _ever_ gave alcohol to the normally quick-fire Uchiha. Itachi didn’t look like he’d be able to dodge a falling leaf, and Kisame winced internally and prayed no one would attack tonight. Itachi finally took the proffered treat, looking it over with scrutiny, Sharingan flashing menacingly at it once or twice, before taking a cautious bite.

Kisame let out a breath, and started on his own supper, keeping a watchful eye on his partner. He wasn’t much of a doctor, but he figured getting any sort of food into Itachi to soak up some of that sake had to be a win, right?

He placed the paper bag with the rest of the dango near Itachi, hoping it might tempt him into eating some more. He had no idea if Itachi even knew it was there; he was still glaring at the dango in his hand, Sharingan flicking on and off, and for a moment Kisame wondered if it was possible for the poor confection to be under some sort of genjutsu. Maybe he’d bring it up when Itachi was no longer a zombie.

He continued to eat with one eye on the kid. How long does it take to get sake out of your system? Would Itachi get a hangover? That was a chilling thought, because it was so obviously Kisame’s fault, and he would have to face the brunt of Itachi’s wrath.

For now, he chose to enjoy the peace. Itachi finished the first stick of dango, and held it into the fire, watching with cloudy eyes as it caught alight, and slowly burned away. He sighed when the stick was gone, a heavy, emotionally-dense sound that made Kisame make a questioning noise.

“I miss him.”

Kisame blinked a few times, wondering if that had really been Itachi speaking. The boy rarely volunteered to start a conversation, and certainly not one seemingly without purpose. “Miss who?” He ventured, throwing caution to the wind.

“Shisui.”

That was a name Kisame had not heard before. He continued to eat, keeping quiet, wondering if Itachi would elaborate, or if reading minds would become a handy skill to have in the near future.

Itachi heaved another sigh, this one shuddering a bit, and Kisame raised an eyebrow.

“Miss being with him.”

“What happened to him?” Kisame regretted the question as soon as he had asked; Itachi’s open expression shut down with a scowl. He shook his head vaguely, pressing his hands against his eyes and rubbing at them. There was silence after that. Kisame mentally kicked himself. He might have found out what today was all about.

Itachi lay down after a while, movements languid and filled with effort. He kept staring into the fire, with hooded eyes, breathing with his lips slightly parted.

Kisame assumed the conversation was over. He checked that they had extra firewood for the night, and settled himself down on the ground, ready to go to sleep. He had his eyes closed when Itachi spoke again.

“We spent a lot of nights like this,” Itachi said slightly hoarsely, and Kisame resisted the urge to check and see why Itachi’s voice sounded so strained. He wasn’t going to interrupt this time, no sir. He was a quick learner.

“Used to watch the stars,” Itachi murmured, staring blankly. Kisame heard him swallow, and his voice trembled a bit as he continued. “Put his arms around me. Hold me.” And now it was getting personal, and Kisame shifted uncomfortably.

_Never, ever get this kid drunk again, you idiot._

“I miss that. Miss us cuddling under the stars.”

And there’s a word he didn’t think he’d ever hear Itachi use – _cuddling_. It sounded so unreal coming from him. Kisame, with his unending supply of stupidity and reverse learning curve, looked over at Itachi and asked, “Well, if you miss cuddling, why don’t you ever ask?” _Fuck this sake, what the hell, why would you say that?!_

And those would probably be the last words he ever spoke. He regretted so much. _I’m an idiot. A complete idiot._

Itachi lifted himself onto one elbow, levelling a glare at Kisame. His black eyes swirled to red, and Kisame gulped. Oh well. Life had been interesting, at the very least.

“Would you cuddle with me?” Itachi’s words were slow and deliberate, and Kisame would have burst into laughter at the absurdity of everything, had the teen not been staring directly at him with menacing, three-prong Sharingan eyes that could turn his brain into mush if he answered wrong.

“Um . . . yes?” It seemed like the safest answer, because disagreeing with Itachi never ended well, and Kisame did not really fancy spending hours or days trapped inside a fury induced bout of Itachi’s Tsukiyomi. He purposely kept his eyes away from Itachi’s, although by now he figured if Itachi was going to use a genjutsu on him it had probably already started.

Maybe that’s why everything seemed so surreal.

There was a pause, a heartbeat, while Itachi turned Kisame’s answer over in his slurred mind, and then he lay down once more, closing his eyes, and Kisame allowed himself to breathe again. The crisis seemed to have been averted. Maybe Itachi would go to sleep now.

He lay down again with a brief sigh of relief, feeling as though the true danger had passed. Itachi became quiet, and Kisame let himself relax. Chalk today up as a lesson well learned, do not throw alcohol into the chemically imbalanced mess that was Itachi’s psyche. It was a mistake he would never repeat.

And he never, ever wanted to hear Shisui’s name again. Whoever he was.

This would be the last time Kisame ever tried prying information out of Itachi. The last, last, _last_ time. He wasn’t risking his life again just to figure out why his quiet partner became quieter. Why had he felt like it was a good idea to even ask in the first place? He was starting to think he had a mental problem, probably contracted from that Sharingan-using lunatic lying mere metres away.

He was still ranting in his head when he realised Itachi had moved, and he opened his eyes just in time to have a heart attack at the proximity of Itachi’s face and glowering red eyes. When the hell did he get this close?

Itachi stared at him balefully, and Kisame stared back in utter confusion. The confusion gave way to panic when the young teen actually moved to lie down beside him, burying his face into Kisame’s chest and burrowing determinedly into his body heat, while Kisame lay in a stupor mouthing repeatedly, “What the fuck?”

Itachi said nothing.

Kisame stayed frozen in a daze, until the full weight of the situation landed on him with a resounding thump. _Well, shit._

Now what was he supposed to do?

He couldn’t move now, Itachi was still awake, and probably ready to get very angry very quickly. He couldn’t stay where he was – imagine when Itachi woke up, sober, and found himself pressed up inexplicably against his partner. And then there was the terrifying thought that maybe the kid would remember this in the morning. There was no way out of this situation, and Kisame didn’t even know how he got into it in the first place. There was no solution that ended with him living, apparently.

This was Kisame’s last night on earth, he realised in a rather resigned manner. He was going to die, and his last action on earth was, and he couldn’t believe he was even forming the thought, _cuddling with Uchiha Itachi._

There was no denying it, his life was well and truly fucked beyond measure. He wanted to slap a hand over his face, but he was scared to move.

He stayed dead still, lips pulled tight, listening for Itachi’s breathing to settle into its regular sleep pattern. Once he was certain the teen was asleep – probably conked out for hours, considering how much drink was in him – Kisame tried to extract himself from this delicate situation, only to be thwarted by Itachi unconsciously closing one hand in Kisame’s shirt and _god damnit, you’ve been a pain since the day I met you but this takes the freakin’ cake you twisted little son of a-_

Kisame let out a huff, resolving to try to make his escape later.

Except later he found himself asleep.

 

When Kisame woke up, he peeked at the ground next to him, slightly worried that opening his eyes would result in instant death. But he was alone, and he sat up with some surprise.

The sun was only just rising, the fire was out, and Itachi was no longer glued to Kisame, thank any and all available gods, but rather sitting next to the waterfall again, his back to his partner, and his face in his hands.

 _Please let that be the face of a hangover and not regret at my swift death to come_ , Kisame thought to himself. Should he say something? Would that make dying more, or less, painful?

He got up slowly, keeping half on eye on the Uchiha, but Itachi did not turn around. Kisame prepared to leave without a word, wondering if Itachi was even paying attention to him. He must have been, because the moment Kisame was ready to leave, Itachi was at his side, as silent as ever. He wasn’t holding anything pointy, which Kisame found to be a great relief.

They began walking together, neither one volunteering to speak.

That should have been the end of it. Kisame should have kept his mouth shut, and not pressed experimentally on the strings of Itachi’s self-control to see if they would snap. He should have let the whole of yesterday go and let the memories die in the corner of his mind, but, as he had previously recognised, he was no genius. “Who was Shisui?”

He did not miss it when Itachi’s steps hesitated a bit. He wondered if he would get an answer at all. He shrugged, when Itachi said nothing. He was used to it. It made things feel normal again.

“A friend.”

A good two minutes had passed before the barely audible reply came from the teen.

“Good friend?” Kisame questioned further, figuring if he was going to die he might as well know something about the boy causing his demise.

“A very good friend.” Itachi’s voice sounded strained.

Kisame wondered how much of last night Itachi remembered, but he still had a teeny tiny shred of self-preservation and managed to not ask.

“Thank you.” Itachi stated blandly a few minutes later.

“Huh?”

“I enjoyed talking about him last night.”

“Just . . . talking?” Kisame queried, ready to put some distance between them should the need arise.

Itachi shot him an odd look. “Of course. What else would I have been referring to?”

“Nothing,” Kisame said quickly, looking away as though the details of last night were written across his face.

Itachi shrugged off Kisame’s strange behaviour, falling into his usual calm silence once again.

“Hey, Itachi-san?” Kisame said after a few more minutes. He knew he was walking on thin ice, but the air around them felt peaceful, and he was certain Itachi wasn’t about to turn homicidal on him.

“Hm?” Itachi questioned with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“If you ever want to . . . talk . . . again, just let me know.” All things considered, Kisame had quite enjoyed hearing Itachi talk about something (All three sentences). He knew very little about the teen, but suspected there was a lot more to him than met the eye. And, truth be told, Kisame was kind of pleased that Itachi trusted him enough to open up to him. Even if the sake had done the job. They had come out of it unscathed, and Itachi looked much more serene than usual.

Itachi just nodded, but that was enough.

It was more than enough.

 


End file.
